Skip The Charades
by enjolraz
Summary: John finds Mark waiting for him at his locker. John thinks the quarterback wants to pick a fight. Oh how wrong he is.


**Title: **Skip The Charades  
><strong>Author: <strong>castiel's vein  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>John Smith/Mark James  
><strong>Rating: <strong>M  
><strong>Warning: <strong>Strong language, snark, utter crack.  
><strong>AN: <strong>This in and of itself is a one-shot, but I might revisit this pairing/relationship in the future. Maybe make a mini-series out of it. We'll see how it goes this first time around. This was fueled by an incorrect Starbucks coffee order (mocha frappucino =/= white mocha) and a 2AM viewing of _I Am Number Four _in which my roommate and I commented on every piece of homoerotic subtext we could find between John and Mark. Unbeta'd. Like a boss. You've been warned.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I own nothing, unfortunately.

Please R&R! And enjoy!

* * *

><p>On Tuesday, the rain stopped and Sarah Hart didn't come to school. Stomach virus. Go figure.<p>

That left John to his own devices as he walked through the halls towards his locker on autopilot, not absorbing anything around him. The little 'stunt' he'd pulled in science class a week prior had at first drawn some unnecessary attention to him, but now as he passed by groups of his peers, nobody looked twice at him. It looked as though he was finally beginning to blend in.

As John rounded the corner to get to his locker, he stopped short. Mark James was standing in front of it, leaning casually against it. Mark's back was to John so the thickheaded quarterback couldn't see him, which made it fairly easy for John to turn on his heel and quickly backtrack. He'd been trying to keep his temper with Mark in check for some time now, and seeing the damn kid blocking his locker wasn't doing much to help the situation. The guy was a dick; there was no doubt about it. Granted, he hadn't picked on John specifically in quite some time, but there was always Sam. If only John had a nickel for every time Mark used Sam as some sort of punching bag...

The bell rang and the halls emptied out quicker than John expected. He still had yet to stop by his locker and pick his books up for his next class. With any luck, Mark had given up and left by now.

Not so. When John walked around the same corner the second time, Mark was still there, still facing away from him, still waiting. Waiting for what? Waiting for John, clearly. Chances were that Mark wanted to pick a fight for whatever reason (maybe this time John breathed in too much of the same oxygen molecules as Sarah) but wanted to do it with no one to bear witness. Whatever. John could take on Mark, Loric powers or no.

With that in mind, John squared his shoulders and strode purposefully down the hall. Mark heard his footsteps and turned his head to watch John approach.

"Hey," Mark said. There was no snark, no sarcasm, no threatening tone to his voice. It was a simple greeting.

John, caught off guard by the sudden lack of aggressiveness, said "Hi" without thinking twice. He stopped in front of Mark and motioned to his locker with a quick nod of the head. "Can I get by?"

Mark stepped to the side, never taking his eyes off of John. The latter boy twirled his lock and started putting in his combination, speaking as he did so: "If you're here for a fight, I'm not interested."

"I'm not here to fight you," Mark said. He stood a little behind John and shifted his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. "I, uh...wanted a chance to talk to you. Without Sarah around."

John rolled his eyes as he grabbed his history textbook before slamming his locker shut and spinning around to face the taller boy. "Look. Sarah and I are just friends."

"Yeah. 'Just friends' now. You just wait. She'll be reeling you in for the kill any day now," Mark warned.

John narrowed his eyes. "And why is that your business?"

Mark shrugged one shoulder and tried not to meet John's eyes. "It's not. Not really. I just...I dunno." He sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "Y'know what, this conversation really isn't going where I thought it was gonna go."

"Well where'd you _want _it to go?" John challenged. He folded his arms across his chest. "Were you gonna threaten me some more? Act all tough to scare me away from Sarah? I thought you needed your man-tards backing you up for that kind of work." He silently thanked Sam for that new phrase to add to his growing vocabulary.

Mark narrowed his eyes and gave John such a glare that he'd give Henri a run for his money. "I don't want my 'man-tards' around for this, thank you very much."

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" John cheeked. "Not high enough on the social ladder for you?" He was pushing at Mark with every word and he really didn't give a shit. "Come on, spit it out. What d'you want?"

"I wanted to tell you..." He paused and swallowed; John could see his Adam's apple bob nervously in his throat. "I wanted to tell you how fucking stupid I feel for thinking how nice your smile is. How annoying you are when you mumble when you talk because then I can't hear your voice. How I love when you shrug your shoulders because you have this...this _thing _where you shrug one but not the other. And your stupid fucking fashion choice pisses me off because you just _hide _under all these unnecessary layers of clothing and you look like a goddamn hood rat half the time but it's so endearing that you get away with it." He said this all in one breath, as if afraid that if he didn't get it all out now, he'd die. He didn't look John in the eye as he spoke; he kept his gaze trained on the ground or on the wall behind John, but never once looked at him directly.

The whole time Mark spoke, John could feel his palms get clammy. With every word that passed through his lips, John felt more and more lightheaded. There was no possible way this was happening. Was this a hallucination? Maybe one of his new Loric powers was developing and this was a side effect. He'd have to ask Henri later. Either way, Mark James was most definitely _not _admitting his attraction to John. No way.

John realized suddenly that Mark was waiting for some kind of response. (_This isn't Mark, _John scolded himself. _This is a hallucination. You're out of it. You're on some weird kind of Loric high or something._) But the longer John stared at the quarterback, the 'realer' he looked, until finally John had no choice but to accept that this was reality.

"I, uh..." John trailed off. What the fuck was he supposed to say to _that? _"I really, uh...appreciate that, I guess."

Mark snorted. "You appreciate me telling you how annoying and stupid you are?"

"You had some compliments laced in there. It was tactfully done."

They stared at each other for a moment. John could feel his heartbeat quicken as Mark gave him a little half smile full of relief. Apparently the new kid was absorbing this much easier than expected; his responding humor was making it much easier for Mark to feel comfortable.

"You send really mixed signals, by the way," John added. "I dunno about you, but bullying isn't really a turn-on for most people."

Mark bit the inside of his cheek. "I'm not used to this, okay? Give me a break."

John tried to suppress a snicker. Mark shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and his shoulders relaxed a bit, some of the tension of the moment fading away with each passing second.

"So...now what?" John asked the obvious. "What do you wanna do about this?"

Mark quirked an eyebrow. "Do about what?"

"You know." John motioned to the two of them with his hand. "This."

"This?"

"Are you just gonna repeat everything I say or do you actually have something to contribute to the conversation?"

"I didn't think you'd be...up for this," Mark said slowly. "You don't seem the type."

"Neither do you, Mr. Varsity Jacket."

"Touché."

John took a step back and leaned against his locker. "I don't care, to be honest. If you wanna keep it a secret, that's fine with me." He sighed. "I know how the drill works. This kind of thing isn't socially acceptable if you're a jock, let alone the quarterback of the football team."

John could tell Mark was trying not to sigh in relief. "Yeah, I'd rather keep it...keep it hidden, you know? But just for now," he added quickly. "Maybe one day..."

"There's no rush," John interrupted. God forbid he got Mark's hopes up that there'd be a 'one day' for them. He knew that he was still on the run from the Mogadorians and that their time in Paradise was short-lived at best. He'd be gone soon. He understood that. Dragging Mark along for too long like a fish on a hook would be unfair, unnecessary, and cruel. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it while it lasted.

Mark nodded, content with John's desire to take things slowly. "Hidden for now," he clarified. John nodded and couldn't help but smile at him. Mark returned it and motioned his head sideways towards the classrooms. "C'mon. We're both late."

They walked to class together in content silence but once they reached John's history classroom they had to separate; Mark had to go to calculus. They stood in front of John's classroom's door awkwardly, just out of the view of the window. They didn't know quite what to do or say. Technically, they were a 'thing' now, but it was supposed to be secret. Did that give John license to use Sarah as a cover? Would that piss Mark off? What if Sam got suspicious? The kid was smart, after all...

Details. They'd get them sorted later.

"I'll see you at lunch, then?" Mark asked quietly.

John nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you then."

As Mark turned to head towards his own classroom, something possessed John to suddenly cry out, "Wait, Mark!"

The quarterback turned in time for the new kid to grab his shirt collar and pull him down for their lips to meet.


End file.
